


Between Life and Death

by 30SecondsToAnime



Category: Voltron - Fandom, Voltron: Legendary Defender, vld - Fandom
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Fluff, M/M, Oneshot, VLD season 7, but I promise it's a great fic!, im sorry for the angst, oneshot Klance, very bad summary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 21:57:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15827736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/30SecondsToAnime/pseuds/30SecondsToAnime
Summary: People say that your life will flash before your eyes when you're about to die. What and who would Lance be thinking about in his final moments?—Some things happened during season 7 that I wanted to explore & hash out. One of those things was Lance almost dying and what might have been running through his head in those moments. You'll have to read  to find out the rest :D





	Between Life and Death

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Lance's niece and nephew are twins. I gave Lance a “new” last name, but not Keith because a friend said to stick with Kogane after I pitched them his new last name lol. Italics are Lance's thoughts. This is my first fic for this fandom so be kind, please.

Clouds of rumble parted as the ship came into focus. Nothing was audible except for the rapid pounding of Lance's heart and Veronica's shallow breathing. Her breaths were a reminder that he was not by himself. Morbid as the thought was it comforted him: he wouldn't die alone.

 

Die. Death. Muerte. ¿El fin? Words that had never felt real now settled into his reality. Time slowed. Mimicked the scenes right before something blows up in the action movies Lance loves to watch. Before the world shatters into oblivion. He would take advantage of the time.

 

Lance could imagine the warmth of the sun against his skin. He would miss the feeling of calm that always came with the sun’s touch. Calm. The emotion washed over him. Easing his eyes closed as his lungs took in their last breath of air. He’d made it home. He had been enveloped in the love of his family’s hugs. As Lance clung to the sensation, other memories came tumbling out from his subconscious.

 

The first time he ever saw rain. Being mesmerized by how the droplets caught on his lashes. Burst against his skin and traced patterns in the street.

 

Rushing home with his fist clenched against his chest, an envelope in hand. Feet stomping against the tiled floors. Pride was bursting from every pore. His family’s celebration, he had gotten into the Galaxy Garrison.

 

Alejandra and Rafael’s first day home from the hospital. Cradling them against his chest, being told not to forget to support their heads. So small and vulnerable. He had promised to hold them up for the rest of their lives. _I hope they can forgive me for breaking my promise_.

 

Meeting Hunk and commiserating over how lousy food was at the Garrison. Sharing snacks from care packages sent from home. Sneaking into each other’s rooms to cry when the homesickness was too much. Becoming best friends.

 

Being chosen as a paladin, bonding with Blue. Learning that he could do anything. The hours spent practicing his shot. A constant bruise on his shoulder from the kickback. Knowing he could hit the mark. His hands became calloused from sparring with his sword. If only he had more time.

 

Pidge’s sass. Hunk’s cooking. Allura’s company. Shiro’s support. Coran’s oddly funny jokes. Red and its previous paladin. Keith. Lance’s mind buzzed around his name. An unexpected partnership.

 

As Lance Cabrera let out his last exhale, he focused on this memory:

 

(2am that morning)

 

Anxiety kept Lance pacing the short distance between his bed and the door of his old room in the Garrison. It had been left untouched. Family pictures were covered in light layers of dust. A Cuban flag still spanned one wall. Trinkets littered all available surfaces. Homework lay scattered on his desk, incomplete and crumpled in frustration. Royal blue eyes scan the room. When they stop roaming, he lets out an "oh" of surprise. He was looking at the rosary his Abuela had given him before he left Cuba. It was simple in design, black beads on a silver chain. The centerpiece was the Virgin Mary. The beads were cold against his palm. Thinking he has nothing to lose Lance gets on his knees. His eyes fixated on the crucifix. He coughs to clear his throat. It does little to ease the growing discomfort taking root in the back of his mind. Could he even remember the words? Closing his eyes, Lance visualizes his Abuela. The shape of her face, her welcoming smile, and most importantly the sound of her voice.

 

With his thumb pressed against his index and middle finger, Lance touches his forehead. "In the name of the Father," his hand travels to his sternum," and of the Son," left shoulder, "and of the Holy," right shoulder, "Spirit. . . Amen."

 

Adjusting himself, Lance props his elbows on his bed. The rosary sways as he grips it between both hands with his nose resting on his thumbs. _Abuela, help me not to mess this up_.

 

"Dear Saint Christopher, protect me today

in all my travels along the road’s way.

Give your warning sign if danger is near

so that I may stop while the path is clear.

Be at my window and direct me through

when the vision blurs from out of the blue.

Carry me safely to my destined place,

like you carried Christ in your close embrace.

 

Amen."

 

The last syllable had just passed between his lips when his door opens. Lance feels himself flinch at the sudden burst of noise. He turns his head to examine who was standing in the doorway.

 

"You?" Lance hadn't meant to sound confrontational. But before he could correct his tone of voice, his visitor's demeanor had already changed to one of indignation.

 

"What?" The simple word was uttered with razor edges. Lance pushes up off his bed and straightens out. Rosary still gripped in his right hand. He begins to wipe off the imaginary dirt on his legs to keep his hands and focus occupied. Responses are zipping around Lance's head colliding into sharp, irritating retorts and yet none of them had enough flair.

 

"I didn't come here to be ignored, Cabrera." Each word was clipped. Lance's last name pronounced as though it didn't belong in the speaker's mouth. The bait was too good.

 

"Cabrera, I like the way it rolls off your tongue. Full of exasperation. Say it one more time for me would you Ko-gane?"

 

The eye roll was instantaneous. Crossed arms and a huff of irritation followed suit. Keith Kogane was as predictable as Beyoncé having been nominated for at least one Grammy every year of her career. Lance examines his unexpected guest. Being back on Earth had treated him well. His hair looked glossier if that were even possible. Signs of being out in the sun were highlighted by the tan lines on his hands. _Keith had a glove tan!_ The realization forces Lance to strangle a laugh with a fist to his mouth and averting his eyes. Once the laughter has been put at bay, Lance takes a seat on his bed.

 

“So, what can I do for you?”

 

Keith glances up from brooding and uncrosses his arms.

 

“I wanted to talk.”

 

“Ooo, sounds ominous.” If the tone wouldn’t get under his skin, Lance knew that his crossed legs, chin resting on his hand, and the goofy grin on his face would.

 

“If you could please be serious for one second. There’s some —”

 

“One second.” Lance couldn’t help interjecting. It wasn’t every day that Keith popped up unannounced to talk.

 

“Ugh!” Keith’s arms fly into the air. Taking in the expression on his face quickly sobers Lance’s playful attitude. The set of his jaw was more tense than usual. His posture seemed more closed off than Lance had seen it in months? Years? Something was bothering him.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“No.” Came the curt reply. Seconds passed, and Keith stayed put in the doorframe. His lips pressed into a thin line. Blue-gray eyes seemingly engrossed with a point above Lance's head.

 

“Okay . . .” The tension rolling off of Keith was beginning to put him on edge.

 

“How about you sit down? Your upright sulking or whatever you're doing is making me uncomfortable, and it’s **my** room. I should at least be adequately comfortable in my own room.”

 

Keith eyed the bed for what Lance felt was longer than necessary. Verging on the offensive. Hoping to cut the inspection short he decided to cover all the basics.

 

“I don’t have cooties, scabies, or lice. No one's ever slept in this bed beside me. Oh well, Hunk too but he doesn’t count being best friends and all, it’s like his bed too. So you can sit your bony ass down right here.” Lance pats the space to his right. The various emotions flickering across Keith’s face made the last comment worth it. With a defeated sigh, Keith takes the seat. Lance fidgets with his fingers casting sidelong glances in Keith's direction. He really wanted to know what was up with Keith. How he could help.

 

"Keith wha — "

 

"I came t — "

 

They stop mid-sentence and let out awkward chuckles. Neither sure who should go first. Keith surprises Lance by being the one to break the quiet.

 

"I came to talk to you," Lance watches as Keith's hands ball into fists, his knuckles turning white, "about what you said . . ." His voice trails off, and silence once again takes precedence.

 

"Talk to me about . . . ? I'm not one to brag, but I do say some really top notch things like every day. Sorta like one of those inspirational quote apps. So I would understand if it takes you a while to filter through all the greatness, and find what gem you want to talk about." Keith didn't react. Not even to rebuff his statement. Something was seriously eating at the Black Paladin.

 

"You said some things while we were drifting in space and kind of losing our minds."

 

"Oh."

 

A small thud echoes around the room as Lance's back settles on his bed. He was not particularly fond of the memories from when they were lost in space. Allura’s comment about the dangers of contemplating infinity was not off the mark. Lance’s mind had turned in and started eating at him. Shaking his head clear of the oncoming feelings of anguish, Lance hangs the rosary off one of the posts at the end of the bed. He can feel Keith adjusting himself every few seconds.

 

“You said that I ran away. That I should’ve stayed away. Called me a lone wolf.”

 

“I know I apologized for what I said to Hunk, well to all of you and things went back to normal but. . . Your words kept bothering me. I couldn’t shake them. I need to know Lance, did you mean what you said? Do you believe I should’ve stayed away?” Keith’s words were soft and careful almost as though he were talking to a wild animal, and didn’t want to scare it away. The idea that Keith felt the need to do so irritated Lance. He didn’t need to be coddled, he was a big boy, and this wasn’t going to be a conversation of soft and careful words. That much Lance had guessed the second Keith broached the subject. As they both sat still in the hush, Keith's questions played on a loop in Lance's head. Underneath his words, Lance could hear the dread in Keith's voice. Some part of him believed that Lance might have meant what he said. The thought makes Lance want to curl into himself and disappear. Causing Keith pain elicited a very particular reaction from him. Lance could feel the beginning of hiccups in his heartbeat, the iron grip molding its way around his lungs, a feeling of falling into nothingness consuming all of his senses. But suddenly there was only rage.

 

"How dare you." The words force themselves out guttural and seething. Keith starts at the tone. His eyes focus on Lance who's pulled himself upright. His hands clenched into fists.

 

"In what world?! In what reality would I **ever** mean those words?!" Lance tries to contain the bitterness, but like Newton's first law of motion states: an object in motion will stay in motion unless acted upon by a force. And Lance was in fucking motion.

 

"I was losing my mind! Aside from that, we're a team, Keith. A team. Something you seemed to forget when you left to join the Blades. We had just found our groove, and you left us, you left me. I was your right-hand man. I worked my ass off to be the best Red Paladin I could be. For myself, for Voltron, for you! You were finally opening up, and then you left — like it was nothing."

 

Lance had moved to the other side of the room. His back to Keith and his hands hidden from view.

 

"Like the hours I spent getting my ass handed to me in the training simulators didn't matter. And before you get any ideas, I am not having a fucking pity party. I am well aware of my value and place on this team, I have the fans and successful missions to prove it. What I'm trying to point out to you kindly is that your decision to leave **hurt**. It hurt all of us."

 

The effort Keith took to say his next words in a composed manner was apparent in the strain of his voice,

 

"Well then, I'm glad we were able to clear this up. I should get going." He makes to get up and leave, and that pushes Lance over.

 

“No!” Vibrations travel up Lance’s arm from where the side of his fist had connected with the wall. Pictures fall and scatter across the floor. Tears had pooled angrily in the corners of Lance's eyes. They felt hot on his skin, scorching a trail down his face as they made their escape. His left-hand swiped furiously at his eyes but the tears kept coming.

 

“You do not get to shut down and withdraw. You don't get to stay calm, cool, collected, and distant. Not now. Not when you were the one to open up this can of, of **mierda** —” In three short strides Lance is bending down to get into Keith’s face. Rimmed red eyes. His breathing ragged and his body a jumble of tense muscles.

 

“Say something!” Lance’s finger jabs the Black Paladin squarely in the chest, the force causing a twinge of pain in his hand. And again as Newton’s first law of motion states: an object at rest will stay at rest unless acted upon by a force. Lance was a force.

 

“Get away from me!” Keith snarls and shoves Lance back almost making him trip. Now Keith is standing up, and his lip is pulled back in a sneer.

 

"What do you want from me? An apology? Fuck that Lance! And fuck you too — " Keith shoves Lance again. His action reflecting the aggression in his voice. Lance takes the shove and manages not to stumble. His tears had finally dried up. All that was left was an ache in his heart. An ache for the boy standing in front of him refusing to be honest. Who was so scared of being abandoned that he would shoulder his pain alone rather than open up.

 

"We. Are. All. Hurting!" A push followed each word.

 

"Do you hear me, Keith? We all have problems, fears, and we all carry shit that we would rather not."

 

Keith's voice hardened as he spoke,

 

"Is that supposed to make me feel better? Supposed to make me want to spill out my guts? Ha! I left because it was the right call."

 

"The right call for who?! You left because you didn't think anyone would miss you. But guess what your sarcastic, brooding, impulsive, ill-tempered, mullet having ass was missed a whole lot!"

 

"So what?! If I had the chance to do it all over again, I would still leave. You have no idea, Lance. None. I found my mom on that mission! Do you understand what that meant to me? To discover the one person in this entire universe who I thought didn't want me actually loves me. So I won't apologize for leaving. If anything I'm sorry for how my choice affected everyone. But I can't change the past."

 

"That's rich Keith, real rich coming from you." Lance chuckles to himself, the noise flat and dry.

 

"What? You have more to say on topics you know nothing about?

 

"Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do mullet. You're saying that even if leaving hadn't led you to your mom you'd still have chosen to go?"

 

" **Exactly**. It's not that hard to wrap your head around Lance. Voltron, the universe, everyone was okay with me gone!"

 

"I wasn't! God Keith, I get that you don't like opening up to people. I know you're scared of being abandoned that you think being a lone wolf will protect you from that ever happening. I will say this as many times as I need to get it through your thick ass skull: **no one** on this team is **ever** leaving you behind. **Ever**. You belong here as much as you belong with the Blades. Got it?"

 

A sob rocked Keith's body. Lance watched as Keith battled with his emotions. His lips trembled, and his shoulders heaved with the effort of keeping everything in. His hands clenched into shaking fists trying to keep the floodgates closed. Blue-gray eyes whose lashes were brimmed with tears locked with royal-blue ones that were puffy and swollen from their own shed tears.

 

"Lance?"

 

"Keith."

 

There was no hesitation in the hug. Lance pulled Keith close, wrapping the paladin up in his arms. Keith continued to cry. Plump tears streamed from his eyes soaking the front of Lance's shirt. Sobs left his throat sore, and Lance held him. Held on as tightly as was comfortable. As the tears began to dry and hiccups replaced cries, Keith pulled away. Bleary-eyed, red-faced, and huffing for air. Lance could see something still weighed on the Black Paladin, but he waited. Patience was a Saintly virtue. At least that's what his Abuela was always reminding him.

 

"Were things really not the same? I mean, am I . . ." Keith wiped his nose with the back of his hand as he averted his gaze. _Am I really irreplaceable?_ Lance filled in the last bit of his question.

 

"Of course! I admire Shiro, believe me, I do. He's my hero, but he's not you Keith."  That got his attention, and his eyes settled on Lance's face. Lance could feel the heat beginning to rise to his cheeks.

 

"I uh — I mean you're Shiro's Red, his right-hand. And well, I'm your Red, your right-hand. It honestly never felt the same ya know? Me and Shiro, we don't have the bonding moments you and I have."

 

"Bonding moments?" There was a lethal glint behind Keith's gaze.

 

"You admit it! We did have a bonding moment back then!"

 

"Aheh." Lance rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.

 

"I knew you were lying about not remembering. You're such a turd."

 

"Turd? Seriously, Keith, you could've said shit, mierda, or whatever the Galra equivalent of shit is but you chose turd?!"

 

Both boys burst into laughter. The sound was putting their hearts at ease. Lance clutched at his abdomen as Keith folded over lighter tears falling from his eyes. While the laughter subsided, their grins did not.

 

"Haha, man I needed that laugh."

 

"It felt good didn't it?"

 

"You bet your sweet ass it did."

 

"Ugh!"

 

"Don't go rolling your eyes at me! You knew what you were signing up for."

 

"And yet more and more I find myself wishing there was a return policy."

 

"Trying to be funny are we mullet? You should stop trying; it doesn't suit you."

 

"I'll stop trying to be funny the day you stop calling yourself our sharpshooter."

 

"Touché." Toothy smiles pass between them. Another quiet, one far less suffocating, blankets the room. When Lance chances a look at the time he nearly keels over.

 

"I think we should call it a night. We do have a planet to save later today." Keith glances over at the clock and blanches.

 

"How?"

 

"I guess we both had a lot we needed to say." Lance shrugs nonchalantly.

 

"Hn."

 

Lance sticks out his hand with the intention to shake hands. Keith grabs the outstretched hand and tugs Lance's arm pulling him in close. The hand that was not holding Lance's rested against the Red Paladin's back to steady him. In a voice Lance had never heard Keith speak in before, he whispered three words:

 

"Thank you, Lance."

 

A smile split across Lance's face as Keith pulled back. His face was bright with a smile of his own.

 

"To bonding moments."

 

"To bonding moments."

 

Lance watched as Keith walked out of his room, his heart feeling the lightest it had felt in a long time. Not even bothering to change, he just pulled off his soaked shirt, tossed it on the floor and stripped down to his boxer-briefs before plopping onto his bed. His eyes closed, his heartbeat slowed, and while he drifted off thinking about Keith Kogane, he swore he heard the growing rumble of Red's roar.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I hope you enjoyed the fic & that no one was too OOC, I'm still trying to get the hang of their voices so nice criticisms are welcome. The prayer Lance recites is St. Christopher's Protection Prayer.
> 
> If you'd like more, feel free to submit any oneshot prompts to my tumblr ask box (http://30secondstoanime.tumblr.com/) or comment them!


End file.
